Her Light to His Darkness
by hArU nO hIkArI
Summary: Kagome has to served Sesshoumaru for a year because of a wager. Could a young human girl melt the heart of a cold demon lord who has been through so much pain? Revenge may be sweet, but will it lead to more lies, or a way back into love?
1. Prologue

**Her Light to His Darkness**

**Disclaimer**: I am simply borrowing characters of Inuyasha for a while. (Although I would gladly give an arm and leg to own Sesshoumaru-sama)

**Summary:** Could a young human girl melt the heart of a cold demon lord who has been through so much pain? Revenge may be sweet, but will it lead to more lies, or a way back into love?

**Note:** This story is based on a book I had read a long long time ago. Have you ever read a book that was so touching that it made you weep both joy and sorrow? Have you ever felt compelled to read a book over and over again without ever getting bored of it? Well… This book had. My regret is that my copy was thrown away and I can't remember the name of the book anymore. But I remember everything about this story and Sesshoumaru and Kagome fit the main characters perfectly. I hope I am able to bring my readers a story that they (hopefully) will never forget, just like I did before. I got the title from a great story written by Alcestis, Crossroads, Fushigi Yugi fans should go and check out her trilogy.

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**Prologue: Taboo**

The young youkai slipped into the bower without a sound. His steps faltered as the ethereal scent of rosemary raked like tender claws down his spine. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the scent envelop him as it had the night before when his stepmother had curtsied to him in the dance. Her raven curls had brushed his cheek, unmanning him with their softness as she taught him each step of the carol with the sweetest of patience. He opened his eyes; lashes fringing their bleak depths.

He should not have come here. Writing music could be learned at his father's desk. Courtesy, in the great hall. What skill might he learn in his stepmother's chamber? His father would be home from battle within the fortnight. He only wanted to see her— to offer his thanks for her kindness and attention in his father's absence.

Swords clashed outside the open window, followed by a roar of laughter. The courtyard below where the children played at tilting seemed a world away. Before him, sunlight bathed the empty chamber. Disappointment and relief gripped him as he slipped forward with a grace beyond his fourteen human years.

Damask curtains the same deep, rich blue of her eyes were drawn back from the rumpled bed. He ducked under the carved canopy, his hand shaking as he touched the hollowed cave in the feather pillow where her head had rested.

A tiny sound came from the alcove behind him. He rapped his head on the canopy and swung around, wide-eyed with guilt. His smooth brow furrowed with annoyance.

He had forgotten the baby. His stepsister stood in the oaken cradle, the tangled remnants of her swaddling hanging from her tiny paws like a shroud. Sunlight kissed the raven curls poking out of her silken coif. Her lower lip trembled and her round, blue eyes welled with tears, but she did not cry. Her forbearance seemed to be such that she would have stood there forever, waiting for someone to happen by and pick her up. He supposed he should see to her before she tumbled out of the cradle and cracked her silly head.

As he approached the cradle, she held out her chubby, little arms and smiled through her tears. What if her napkins were wet? He looked around to make sure no one was watching before gingerly lifting her. She was solid, as heavy as a baby piglet in his arms. It was impossible to imagine his stepmother's lithe, dark grace giving birth to such a clumsy creature. He held her awkwardly over one arm as if she might bite him. What should he do with her now?

She knew what to do with him. Cooing softly, she laid her head against his chest. Her fist curled around a strand of his silver hair, tugging as if to remind him of her presence.

Without warning, tears stung his eyes. He had not cried for as long as he could remember, not even when his mother died. He buried his face in the child's sweet-smelling curls as the knot in his throat choked him. She was so fresh and untainted, so free of the guilty stain of his feelings for her mother. For a human stepmother who replaced his youkai mother in his father's court no less. It made him feel twisted and ugly to hold such innocence in his arms.

The door swung open. His stepmother swept in, her eyes darkening unaccountably at the sight of the dark head next to the silver one.

She snatched the child from his arms. "Is the silly baby troubling you? Forgive me. I don't know how she manages to wiggle out of her swaddling."

He watched, his arms empty, as she stuffed the plump limbs back into the binding linen. The child's lips trembled, but she did not cry. Her eyes were not on her mother. They were on him. "Is she not old enough to toddle about?" he said faintly.

"Toddle into mischief! What do boys know of babies? The swaddling will help her limbs grow straight and strong." His stepmother flashed a vivacious dimple. "And contribute to the sweet demeanour that every man prizes in a wife." She took his hand, her soft, ivory-coloured fingers playing over his knuckles. "Come. Forget the child. You've much to learn before your father returns. I've yet to see you make a proper kneel."

She drew him away from the cradle. "Now, pretend I am your queen."

He was not pretending as he cleared his throat awkwardly and dropped to one knee. He reached for her outstretched hand. Her middle finger bore the rubies and emeralds of his father's betrothal ring. His head dropped. He could not touch her. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He hardly dared breathe as she touched him, her fingernails gently tracing the shapes of his ears beneath his thick, silver hair.

"My youkai," she crooned. "My sweet, young youkai. I've so much to teach you."

He closed his eyes as she drew his face into the jasmine-scented velvet of her chest. But as he buried his face in her softness, it was not darkness he saw but the reproach in round, blue eyes the colour of the spring sky.

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**A/N:** I'm so sorry for disappearing for such a long time and with no news at all. It has been a hard time for me for the past 2 years, I had to face up to reality that education was the most important and I could not waste time on things other than my studies. It would be so nice if I could spend my days writing/reading fanfiction. During my long hiatus, I find myself simply unable to finish Unknown Desire as I totally lost my muse for it. It may be finished sometime in the future, but for now, it will have to be a reminder to myself to never leave things half done. For now, I hope my readers are still around and continue to support me for this fic and I promise that this story would not end up like Unknown Desire. Thank You.

PS. The prologue is about a young Sesshoumaru, hoped that no one got confused. And I'll give a prize to the 1st person who can guess who the stepmother is. XD

PPS. I'll give you cookies if you review… Hehe… Peanut butter, chocolate chip, caramel… you just have to review XD Same as before, don't show mercy while reviewing!


	2. Chapter 1

**Her Light to His Darkness**

**Disclaimer**: I am simply borrowing characters of Inuyasha to torture in my fic for now…

**A/N: **Things are gonna get a little confusing from now… Kagome is a poor peasant girl who has 3 brothers and a cousin living with her, namely Miroku, Souta, Shippo and Hojo. Her father is a drunkard and loser named Hiro. Her mother, Asuka, is dead. Details about Sesshoumaru will be confirmed in the next chapter… Enjoy XD

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**Chapter One: Wager**

_16 years later…_

The hare's nostrils quivered an inch from hers. If anyone had been as near to Kagome as the hare was at that moment, they would have sworn her nose also quivered. She lay in the sweet-smelling grass, her chin nuzzled in the crook of her arm. Her headscarf slipped over her blue eyes, and the slight movement startled the hare into flight. Kagome swore softly and climbed to her knees, adjusting the scarf with a jerk. With stinging fingers she plucked thistles from her yukata. She had lain motionless in the tall grass for hours to gain the trust of the hare bouncing cheerfully toward the rosy pocket of the sky.

She shook her fist at the animal and then laughed ruefully. Sheathing the long knife that hung forgotten in her hand, she trudged toward the shrine where four hungry boys were doomed to be hungrier.

As the only girl in a family of two brothers, one male cousin and a father given to long disappearances, it had taken Kagome both time and ingenuity to convince the family she was indifferent to the cobwebs festooning the grim remnants of their shrine. She had learned at a tender age that her only escape from a life of perpetual drudgery lay in becoming a terrible cook and a clever huntress. She tackled both tasks with enthusiasm, leaving her brothers to till the stony ground and freeing herself to roam the wild moor.

Kagome spread her arms, emphasizing their emptiness as she leaped from stone to stone across a sparkling stream. Shippo would even now be preparing the spit for the game she did not bear. Her youngest brother had rescued the doomed family from a life of raw cabbage when his first tottering steps had led him to the dusty kettle on the hearth where he promptly fell in. His hollow cries had echoed through the castle until Kagome's oldest brother, Miroku, fished him out.

The dry grass crackled beneath Kagome's heels. The late summer twilight descended around her in a lavender haze—a gentle reproof for the long hours she had spent running through the meadows, whistling at the larks and tracking a wide-eyed doe at the edge of the forest. To come home empty-handed would be to admit the folly of her day and succumb to a supper of boiled turnips for the third time in a week.

Setting her jaw in determination, she unsheathed the knife and turned to the forest. The sour, cracked note of a badly blown trumpet shattered the quiet like a golden fanfare.

_Otousan_! Otousan was home! Kagome sprinted toward the decrepit shrine she called home and the charming braggart she called Otousan.

Eight months had passed since he had left without a word to pursue his fortune. In the past those same pursuits had brought him home with a leather pouch of golden coins which he had scattered among his children like a jolly harbinger of happier times. Kagome would laughingly scramble for the coins, knowing all the while that the gold would be regathered in time for Otousan's next expedition. She dreaded the times he returned with nothing but a massive headache and a kick for the cur that skulked around the hearth. He never dared raise a hand to any of his children; even Kagome outmeasured him by two inches.

However hapless his journey, he never returned without some scrap of a present for his only daughter. The tattings of lace and velvet bows had been tucked away, forgotten, to be replaced by soft-beaten leather and a curved dagger. Kagome expressed her needs with a candor not inherited from her father.

With a hint of the ingenuity they did share, she thought with glee that Otousan's return would draw attention from her empty hands, especially if he packed the carcass of a deer on his aged gelding as he always did when his wagers had been successful.

The weatherbeaten walls of the shrine came into view as she topped the hill. She paused to grasp her side and rub away the stitch that had stolen her breath away. Her mother's ancestral home crouched on the edge of the moor, the battered walls no longer a defense against the wind that roared through the widening cracks in the wood. But in the rapidly dying light of the summer sun, the ancient shrine gleamed in a poignant reflection of its former glory.

Kagome's joy overflowed in a whoop as she skipped down the hill. But her throat went dry when she saw Otousan's slopebacked gelding tethered to a post, an empty pouch draped over its heaving flanks. She ran her hand over the horse's withers and then wiped the slimy film of sweat on her yukata with a grimace. The horse gave a gurgling snort, its head buried in a wooden bucket. Shaking off a shiver of foreboding, Kagome bounded up the splintered planks that served as a bridge over the dank moat.

Windows at the front held the twilight at bay. Kagome blinked away blindness as her eyes adjusted to the gloom of the cavernous hall. A fire dwarfed by the immense fireplace to add cheer to the vaulted room but succeeded in casting more shadows than light. The corners of her mouth tilted upward at the sight of Shippo stirring the contents of an iron kettle. The pungent odor of turnips floated to her nose.

She leaped out of the doorway, warned by the clatter of large feet on the planks. Her brothers burst into the hall bearing an array of hoes and rakes.

"Where is Otousan?" bellowed Miroku.

He tossed his scythe to the flagstones. The other two children exchanged doubtful glances, then dumped their tools with equal carelessness.

Kagome's cousin Hojo stepped out from the stairs. His plump face held an oddly glum look; he twirled a rusty trumpet between his fingers.

"Your father is upstairs," he announced. "He wanted you gathered. Said that there wasn't much time."

Even as he spoke, a deafening crash sounded from the upper reaches of the shrine followed by a bellow and a flurry of imaginative curses. They all stared upward as if an explanation for Hojo's cryptic speech would float down with the dust motes loosened from the beams.

Miroku knuckled his eyes. "Is Otousan in foul spirits, Hojo?"

Hojo scratched his head with the trumpet. "I don't believe he is in spirits at all. I believe he is sober."

Kagome's brothers nodded to each other, accepting the news with puzzled solemnity.

Kagome snorted. "Nonsense. Have you ever seen him sober, Hojo?"

Her cousin turned to her, unable to stop blind adoration from conquering his calflike eyes. "No. But I've never seen him like this before, either."

Kagome tweaked Hojo's nose with fond contempt. "If you say he is sober, then I say you've been dipping into the sake with your own greedy paw."

Hojo choked out a meager chuckle. The others laughed aloud at the thought of their pasty-faced cousin swilling a cup of sake.

"Otousan is probably just hungry," Kagome pronounced with conviction.

The look Shippo gave her was so devoid of reproach that she ducked her head in shame, regretting her thoughtless fling with the summer day. The mention of food started all their stomachs rumbling. The black bread crusts they had for breakfast were a fond but distant memory. Kagome started for the wall that housed the old bow and arrow. Shippo's words stopped her.

"Apples, 'Gome. We can spare a few. I can cook them on the coals the way Otousan fancies them."

With a grateful smile she took the sack he held out. Shippo seemed to have inherited intelligence equal to all that was divided so sparingly between her older brothers. Pulling her cap over her ears, she ducked into the deepening night.

The door had hardly closed behind her when Otousan came stumbling down the stairs.

My God, thought Shippo. Hojo was right. Otousan never stumbles when he's drunk.

Gone was the strutting gait, the bleary, sated gaze. In their place were feet that took each step as if mired in molten lead and eyes that shone with the weight of unshed tears. Higurashi Hiro stood at the foot of the stairs and surveyed his sullen sons as if seeing them for the first time.

"Kami. I didn't know there were such a godawful lot of you." He rubbed his eyes as if to make some of them disappear.

"There are four of us, Hiro-jisan, counting Kagome," said Hojo, ever eager to please.

He peered around the hall again. "Where is 'Gome? I do not see her."

Shippo stepped away from the fireplace. "Gone to fetch apples, Otousan."

" It's just as well." Otousan dragged his right leg as he crossed the hall, his faint limp painfully pronounced. He sat heavily in an ancient chair. The wood creaked beneath his weight. "Water, Shippo," he croaked.

Otousan leaned back and closed his eyes, missing the struggle that ensued as Miroku and Shippo tugged at the stoneware flagon, sloshing tepid water over their bare feet. With a choked mutter, Miroku jerked the flagon out of his brother's hands and poured the water into a rusty goblet. He allowed Shippo the honour of presenting it to their father with a flourish.

Otousan's hands shook as he took the goblet. He drained it as if it contained something far more tasty than dirty water and an errant fly.

"Gather around, sons. I have good news," he announced.

Spreading his arms wide as if to embrace them to his chest, he grinned. His sons took a hesitant step forward, and Hojo took a step backward.

"Join us, Hojo. I would not choose to cheat you of a chance for adventure simply because you had the misfortune to be born from another man."

Hojo blushed and sidled closer. "Adventure, Hiro-jisan?"

The boys exchanged blank glances, unable to comprehend the idea of any existence or experience beyond their own. Surely farming turnips in rocky fields that were never meant to be farmed was adventure enough.

Otousan leaned forward with a conspirator's wink. "You see, my boys, I truly found my elusive fortune in the course of this expedition. I was on my way home to share the prosperity with my precious offspring." He clucked sadly. "But my purse was weighted down by so many gold coins that the old gelding could hardly bear it."

Shippo crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing in blatant skepticism.

"So I stopped for a night's rest at the castle of a friend."

Hojo wondered what it was like to have a friend. He had never met anyone he was not related to.

"And they had a jolly game of dice going at the castle, did they not, Otousan?" Shippo interrupted.

Otousan rumpled his son's silver-blond hair. "Shippu, you never cease to amaze me."

"It's Shippo." Ducking away, he returned to the fireplace, busying himself once again with the kettle.

"So," Otousan continued briskly, "seeking to rid myself of some of this cumbersome load—for the dear gelding's sake, of course—I entered into a game of dice with an old acquaintance of mine, the son of a Taiyoukai whom I served as knight to before. The pup once bore me a great fondness and is now grown into a great and noble knight."

Something about the way Otousan spoke the last two words sent a chill down Shippo's spine. He straightened, the turnips forgotten.

"First I wagered what I had. Then I wagered what I didn't have. Maybe I had imbibed a tad too much sake." He held his thumb and finger apart in illustration.

Shippo's arms spread as wide as they could go, adjusting the inaccurate measure. Hojo smothered a giggle behind his plump hand. Shippo pretended to stretch as his father's gaze fell upon him.

Otousan shrugged. "So I lost my fortune. When my old friend discovered my penniless straits, I fear he lost his temper. With the unfortunate memory of a winner, he recalled my boasts of the four strapping lads who tended my shrine while I sought my fortune. So the gist of the matter is that one of you lucky lads is going to serve a Taiyoukai for the period of one year." He beamed at them, his bright pig-eyes awaiting their congratulations.

Only silence greeted him.

"You wagered one of your children?" Shippo pushed through the forest of shoulders to face his father.

Higurashi Hiro's smile faded. He rubbed his head, peeling back the hair to reveal the bald spot he usually struggled to hide.

"Not precisely. The choice was not mine to make." He surveyed them glumly, dropping all pretense of happiness. "He said he would journey to the shrine to choose one of my boys for service, or he would journey to shrine bearing my head on a sword."

"Oh, Uncle," breathed Hojo, paling to an unpleasant shade of green.

"It's your good fortune he was not your enemy. Does this Taiyoukai have a name?" Shippo's eyes narrowed to slits.

Hiro mopped his brow with his sleeve, the heat from the small fire suddenly oppressive. He froze as the thunder of hooves echoed in the courtyard. Silence followed. Then the door flew open with a mighty crash that nearly shook it from its hinges.

…

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So who is the mysterious youkai that Hiro wagered with? What's gonna happen next? Tune in next time to see how its gonna turn out… Review and I'll churn out the chapters faster... XD


	3. Chapter 2

**Her Light to His Darkness**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine! Grr… Just had to rub it in had you…

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**Chapter Two: Prize**

Kagome came bursting in like a ray of sunshine cutting through the stale layer of smoke that hung over the hall. The wild, sweet scent of the meadow clung to her hair, her skin, the handwoven yukata she wore. Her cheeks were touched with the flushed rose of exertion; her eyes were alight with exuberance.

She ran straight to her father, her words tumbling out faster than the apples dumped from the sack she clutched upside down.

"Oh, Otousan, I am ever so happy you've come home! Where did you have the stallion hidden? He is the most beautiful animal I ever saw. Did you truly find your elusive fortune this journey?"

Falling to her knees beside his chair, she pulled a crumpled bunch of heather from her pocket and dumped it in his lap without giving him time to reply.

"I brought your favorite flowers and Shippo has promised to cook apples on the coals. They will be hot and sweet and juicy, just as you like them. 'Twill be a hundred times better than any nasty old roasted hare. Oh, Otousan, you're home! We thought you were never coming back."

She threw her arms around his waist. The uninhibited gesture knocked the headscarf from her head to unleash a cascade of raven curls.

Hiro's arms did not move to encircle her. He sat stiffly in her embrace. She lifted her face, aware of a silence broken only by the thump of a log shifting on the fire. Her father did not meet her eyes, and for one disturbing moment, she thought she saw his lower lip tremble.

She followed his gaze. Her brothers stood lined up before the hearth in the most ordered manner she had ever seen them. Hojo beamed from the middle of the row.

Bathed in the light of the flickering fire, the stranger stepped out of the shadows. Kagome raised her eyes. From where she knelt, it was as if she was peering up from the bottom of a deep well to meet the eyes of the man who towered over her. His level gaze sent a bolt of raw fear through her, riveting her to the floor as if she stared into the face of death itself. A long moment passed before she could pull her eyes away.

"Otousan?" she breathed, patting his cool, trembling hand.

He stroked her hair, his eyes distant. "Kagome, I believe it would be fitting for you to step outside untill we have concluded our dealings."

"You made no mention of a daughter, Higurashi." The stranger's gaze travelled between father and child.

Otousan's arm curved around Kagome's shoulders like a shield. The stranger's mocking laughter echoed through the hall. Only Kagome heard Otousan's muttered curse as he realized what he had betrayed.

"Your interest is in my sons," Otousan hissed, a tiny vein in his temple beginning to throb.

"But _your_ interest is not. That much is apparent."

The man advanced and Kagome rose, knowing instinctively that she did not want to be on her knees at this stranger's feet. She stood without flinching to face the wrought links of the silver armour that crossed the man's chest. From broad shoulders to booted feet, his garments were as cold as the eyes that regarded her with frank scrutiny. She returned his perusal with arms crossed in front of her.

A closer look revealed his eyes were not brown, but a deep, piercing golden. Their opacity rendered them inscrutable, but alive with intelligence. Arched brows added a mocking humour that gave Kagome the impression she was being laughed at, although his expression did not waver. His silver hair hung past his waist. His well-formed features were saved from prettiness by an edge of rugged masculinity within his demeanour. The thought flitted through Kagome's mind that he might be handsome if his face was not set in beautiful but ruthless lines.

He reached down and lifted a strand of her hair as if hypnotized by its brightness. The velvety tendril curled around his fingers at the caress.

Kagome's hand slipped into her yukata, but before she could bring the knife up to strike, her wrist was twisted in a fearful grip that sent the blade clattering to the stones. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. The youkai loosed her.

"She has more fire than the rest of you combined." The stranger strode back to the hearth. "I'll take her."

The hall exploded in enraged protest. Otousan sank back in the chair, his hand over his eyes.

"You cannot have my sister!" Shippo's childish tenor cut through his brothers' cries.

Smirking, the man leaned against the hearth. "Take heart, pup. It's not forever. She is only to serve me for a year."

Kagome looked at Otousan. His lips moved, but made no sound. Her brothers spewed forth dire and violent threats, although they remained in place as if rooted to the stone. She wondered if they had all taken leave of their senses. The stranger's sparkling eyes offered no comfort. They watched her as if delighting in the chaos he had provoked. The tiny lines around them crinkled as he gave her a wink made all the more threatening by its implied intimacy. A primitive thrill of fear shot through her, freezing her questions before they could leave her lips.

Otousan's whine carried just far enough to reach the man's ears. "We said sons, did we not?"

The man's booming voice silenced them all. "No, Higurashi. We said children. I was to have the use of one of your children for a year."

Kagome's knees went as slack as her jaw. Only the sheer effort of her will kept her standing.

"You cannot take a man's only daughter," said Otousan, unable to keep the pleading note from his voice. "Show me some mercy, won't you?"

The youkai snorted. "Mercy? What have you ever known of mercy, Higurashi? I've come to teach you of justice."

Otousan mustered his courage and banged with force on the arm of the chair. "I will not allow it."

The stranger's hand went to the hilt of the massive sword sheathed at his waist. The muscles in his arms rippled with the slight gesture. "You choose to fight?" he asked softly.

Higurashi Hiro hesitated the merest moment. "Kagome, you must accompany this nice youkai."

Kagome blinked stupidly, thrown off guard by her father's abrupt surrender.

Shippo charged forward, an iron pot wielded over his head like a sword. The youkai turned with sword drawn. Kagome lunged for his arm, but Otousan sailed past both of them and knocked the boy to the ground with a brutal uppercut. Shippo glared at his father, blood trickling from his mouth and nose.

"Don't be an idiot," Otousan spat. "He will only kill you and then he will kill me."

Still wielding his sword, the stranger faced the row of grumbling boys. "If anyone cares to challenge my right to their sister, I would be more than happy to defend it."

The broad blade gleamed in the firelight. Miroku returned the man's stare for a long moment, his callused hands clenched into fists before turning away to rest his forehead against the warm stones of the fireplace.

The stranger's eyes widened as Hojo stepped forward, trumpet still clutched in hand. Otousan took one step toward Hojo, who then plopped his ample bottom on the hearth and studied the trumpet as if seeing it for the first time. The youkai sheathed his sword.

"A wager is a wager." Otousan ran his thumbs along the worn gilt of his tattered hakama. "As you well know, I am an honourable man."

He sighed as if the burden of his honour was too much for him _to_ bear. The short laugh uttered by the youkai was not a pleasant sound.

Otousan gently took Kagome's face between his moist palms. "Go with him, Kagome." He swallowed with difficulty. "He will not harm you."

The stranger watched the exchange in cryptic silence, his arms crossed over his chest.

Kagome searched her father's face, blindly hoping for a burst of laughter to explain away the youkai's intrusion as a cruel jest. The hope that flickered within her sputtered and died, smothered by the bleakness in the sea-blue eyes that were a pale, rheumy echo of her own.

"I shall go with him, Otousan, if you say I should."

The youkai moved forward, unlooping the rope at his waist. Otousan stepped back to keep a healthy sword's distance away from the imposing figure.

Kagome shoved her hands behind her back. "There is no need to bind me."

The man retrieved her hands. Kagome tried not to flinch as he bound her wrists in front of her none too gently.

Her soft tone belied her anger. "If Otousan says I am to go with you, then I will go."

The silver head remained bowed as he tightened the knot with a stiff jerk. Coiling the free end of the rope around his wrist, he led her to the door without a word. She slowed to scoop up her headscarf. Feeling the sudden tautness in the rope, the man tugged. Kagome dug her heels into the wood, resisting his pull. Their eyes met in a silent battle of wills. Without warning, he yanked the rope, causing Kagome to stumble. She straightened, her eyes shining with angry tears for an instant. Then their blue depths cleared and she purposefully followed him through the door, cap clutched in bound hands.

The boys shuffled after them like the undead in a grim processional. Otousan meandered behind. Shippo was gripped between two of his brothers, a fierce scowl darkening his fair brow.

Night had fallen. A full moon cast its beams through the scant trees, suffusing the muted landscape with the eerie glow of a bogus daylight. Miroku gave a low, admiring whistle as a two-headed dragon seemed to rise from the thin shroud of mist that cloaked the ground. The creature cocked both its heads at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Kagome's eyes were drawn to the golden bridle crowning the massive animal. Jewels of every hue encrusted its length. Why would a man of such wealth come all the way to the shrine to steal a poor man's child? The youkai's forbidding shoulders invited no questions as he mounted the dragon and slipped Kagome's tether over the leather pommel. The dragons's iron-shod hooves twitched, making her wonder how close she could follow without being pounded to a pulp.

Hojo stepped in front of the dragon as if accustomed to placing his bulk in the path of a steed mounted by a fully armed youkai. The youkai leaned back in the saddle with a sigh.

"Milord?" Hojo's voice was a mere squeak, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Kind sir, I hasten to remind you that you are stealing away our only ray of light in a life of darkness. You pluck the single bloom in our garden of grim desolation. I speak for all of us."

Hojo's cousins looked at one another and scratched their heads. Kagome wished faintly that the youkai would run him through and end her embarrassment.

"You make an eloquent plea, human," the knight replied, surprising them all. "Maybe you should plead with her father to make his wagers with more care in the future."

From behind Miroku, Otousan dared to shoot the man a look of pure hatred.

"You will not relent?" asked Hojo.

"I will not."

"Then I pray the burden of chivalry rests heavily on your shoulders. I pray you will honour my sweet cousin with the same consideration you would grant to the rest of the fair and weaker sex."

Kagome itched to box his ears, remembering the uncountable times she had wrestled him to the ground and pinched him until he squealed for mercy.

The stranger again uttered that short, unpleasant laugh. "Do not fear, human. I will grant her the same consideration that I would grant to any wench as pretty as she. Now stand aside or be trampled."

Hojo tripped to the left as the knight kicked the dragon into movement. Kagome broke into a lope to avoid being jerked off her feet. She dared break her concentration only long enough for one last hungry look at her family. She heard the soft thud of fist pummeling flesh and a familiar cry as Shippo tackled Hojo in blind rage and frustration.

Then they were gone. She focused all of her attention on the rocky turf beneath her feet as her world narrowed to the task of putting one foot in front of the other without falling nose first into the drumming hooves.

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Note: Well, our smexy Taiyoukai has finally appeared… I decided to make Ah-Un move on land rather than fly in this chapter so that Kagome can go through some torture as well as show how cruel Sess can be. Was Sess nasty/arrogant enough in this chapter? REVIEW!


	4. Chapter 3

**Her Light to His Darkness**

**Disclaimer**: Not mine…

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**Chapter 3: Drunken Encounter**

The ground blurred beneath Kagome's pounding feet, slipping out from under her with alarming frequency. The tangled grasses of the meadow were left behind as they entered a forest. A thick net of branches diffused the brilliant moonbeams into a treacherous web of shadow and light. A dead branch she did not see slammed into her knees even as she stumbled over a rock that was only a reflection in the slick leaves. Surely her whole life had been spent following the flowing tail of this monster steed and the forbidding back of its demon rider. The aching rhythm of her heels faltered, and she stayed on her feet only by entwining her fingers around the strand of rope that bound her wrists. Her head scarf was now crushed, but she refused to drop it.

"Pardon me," she gasped.

The broad shoulders did not turn.

"Excuse me… milord?"

Nothing. Kagome could think of only one way to get his attention. She sat down, throwing her legs around the rope to keep from being pulled to her stomach. She had counted on the nests of pine needles to cushion her.

She had not counted on the Taiyoukai continuing for several feet until her bottom was dragged into a shallow stream with a defeated splash.

He halted and pivoted the dragon to face her. Kagome was not sure who she hated more—the smug dragon or the Taiyoukai who raised one inquisitive eyebrow at her. She collapsed against the bank and closed her eyes. The rope relaxed as he dismounted. She sighed at the sheer luxury of stretching her bound wrists over her head and slowly opened her eyes. The man knelt a few feet away. His molten eyes never left her.

Water filled her yukata. The annoying sensation fanned her flames of indignation. "Would you drown me like an unwanted kitten, milord, or is there that much compassion in you?"

"Why did you not ask me to stop?"

"Would you have listened?" Kagome fought to steady her breathing.

"Yes."

Kagome rolled her eyes and turned her face away to hide her obvious scepticism.

"How did your little rooster of a father manage to raise such a spiritless brood?" he demanded, rising to his feet.

"We are not spiritless," she protested. "You've no right to call us that."

He crossed the stream with one stride and squatted in front of her. "Your father was once a samurai. Has he no skill with a sword?"

Kagome's eyes sparkled with pride. "Otousan had to lay down his arms through no fault of his own. He was lamed in a fierce battle with the panther demons."

Sesshoumaru snorted. "Demons, indeed. What of the two grown men besides your Otousan? They let me dance out of there with you as if it was naught. You do not call that spiritless?"

"You could have slain every one of them, could you not?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Then they were not without courage. They were intelligent."

The youkai's face dissolved into hearty laughter, dispelling its menace and softening its lines to boyishness for an elusive instant.

"I fear the only quality more lacking than courage was intelligence. Who was the boy? I feared he was going to trumpet me to death."

"It was Hojo. And he is not a boy. He is as old as I."

"I suppose that makes him a man?"

Kagome searched her mind for some weapon to wipe the smirk from his haughty lips but knew the moment she spoke that she had chosen poorly.

"Hojo is my betrothed."

She sniffed with injured pride as the man burst into new peals of laughter.

She spoke quickly. "He is my cousin. Otousan took him in as my betrothed when he was but a boy. Knowing he could provide no dowry, Otousan sought to make me an early match and save me embarrassment."

"I sense you are still embarrassed."

Kagome sighed, missing the absurdity of sitting in a stream and discussing matters of the heart with this stern stranger.

"Do you love this Hojo?"

"I feel a sort of affection for him. He has always been around."

"Like a faithful hound?" he offered.

Nodding briskly, she admitted, "I'd sooner love a toad."

"I found his display of affection rather touching. Did it not melt your heart?"

She shook her head. "You don't know Hojo. He has probably been waiting his whole life for a chance to wax poetic before a peer of the court."

A smile touched the man's lips. He tilted her face with one finger, studying its softened planes in the moonlight. Kagome, suddenly wary, blinked back at him.

"I'd have fought to the death to keep my betrothed from falling into the hands of a man like me," he murmured. His finger travelled upward to trace the curve of her lower lip.

Kagome's heart slipped into a thunderous rhythm she did not recognize. She tried to smile, less than comforted by his words. He stared down at her, his dark eyes succumbing to the shadows of the forest. The last traces of laughter vanished from his face. Kagome shifted, painfully aware of her vulnerability as she laid half in and half out of the stream with her hands bound and this enigmatic stranger crouching over her. The wet yukata clung to her thighs; her skin glistened with the water's mist.

He pried the crumpled head scarf from her hands. Placing it on her head, he tucked each strand of raven hair beneath with great care. "If you must go about sprawling in streams like a wanton nymph, pray do wear your cap to discourage would-be assailants."

He hauled her to her feet and unbound her wrists. Water dripped steadily from the seat of her yukata as he mounted the horse without a word.

She smiled hopefully. "I daresay Otousan has learned his lesson by now. I believe I can find my way home from here."

"Will you mount with me or shall I bind you again?" The knight stared down at her, his fathomless eyes hooded.

She approached the massive steed, dwarfed by the man who sat with such ease upon its back.

She swallowed. "You wish for me to ride with you?"

She was suddenly astride the dragon as he lifted her with one powerful arm and placed her on the saddle in front of him. Her wet yukata tangled beneath her but she barely had time to focus on that discomfort before he kicked the dragon into movement. She realized how much time her pride had cost them since leaving the shrine.

The dragon flew down the path, the thunder of its hooves muffled by the luxuriant carpet of pine needles. Kagome leaned forward to place a safe distance between her back and the broad chest of her captor, only to find herself jerked against him by a muscular arm wrapped around her waist.

"Be still. You'll spook the steed," he commanded.

Kagome surrendered to his iron grip as the horse careened off the path and darted among the trees as if following some esoteric equine map. The youkai's chest became a haven that protected her from being crushed as tree trunks lurched into their path with frightening regularity.

When she realized the arm locked beneath her breasts would not allow her to sail off the dragon, she settled back, lulled by the novel sense of security the warm chest afforded. She slipped into sleep with uncommon ease.

Kagome awoke in time to keep from falling to her knees as the Taiyoukai lowered her unceremoniously to the ground. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Halos of torchlight shone through the trees. The sounds of clumsily plucked shamisan strings and voices blended in drunken laughter floated into the night. She blinked up at the forbidding youkai.

"Trot behind me like a good servant," he commanded. "Keep your hair up. Perhaps it is late enough and they are drunk enough to believe you a boy."

"This is not your home?"

"No. But it will do to pass the night."

He urged the dragon into a walk. Kagome fell into an awkward swagger behind him, at a loss as to how the servant of such a youkai would act.

The Taiyoukai spoke without turning. "You will be left to your own devices when I retire. If you have any thoughts of escape, think again. If you run, I shall return to your home and slay your entire family. When I find you, as I most certainly will, you will wish you had been among the ones slain."

Kagome forced her feet to keep moving. His words sent the skin at the nape of her neck crawling. She pictured Shippo, lifeless, a gaping sword wound where his heart should be. Anger flared in her eyes only to be quenched by common sense as the youkai turned in the saddle and fixed his dark eyes on her. She nodded, eyes wide and without guile.

The merriment within the castle courtyard came spilling out with the light as couples stumbled down a drawbridge that spanned a twenty-foot moat. One of the youkai faltered in front of Ah-Un.

"Welcome all. The feast is just beginning," he announced, his words slurred. His eyes rolled back in his head as he fell straight into the dirt, arms still spread wide in greeting.

The female demon on his arm flounced back into the castle as the other couples dissipated like giggling phantoms in the night.

The Taiyoukai guided the dragon around the prostrate form without so much as a flick of an eyebrow. Kagome followed, cutting a wide swath around the fallen man.

Sesshoumaru dismounted, handing his reins to a pockmarked youkai who materialized out of the shadows. Before they could take three steps, the same female reappeared on the arm of another stumbling man. Kagome dodged them as they passed within inches of her. The female's brittle laughter rent the air. Kagome gaped as the youkai's ham-like hands caught the female's hips and bore her backward. Her grimy toes curled into an embrace at the small of his back. With a grunt and a grind of his hips, he pinioned her to the wall.

Kagome had forgotten Sesshoumaru until she felt his firm grasp on her forearm as he tugged her away from the lurid scene. She was so intent on peering over her shoulder at the mingled pain and ecstasy on the female's florid face that she did not see the youkai who leaped in front of them until she slammed into his chest with a force that set her ears to ringing.

"Who goes there? Sesshoumaru could that really be you?" came the urgent voice.

"No," she replied without thought. "It's Ka—"

The Taiyoukai clapped his hand over her mouth.

"Aye, Kouga. 'It's this Sesshoumaru. I do believe you've knocked my servant insensible. Clumsy pup, Ka is. I shall have to beat that out of him." The Taiyoukai loosed his grip on her mouth and gently boxed her ears.

This was followed by a hearty slap on the back from the slender gentleman. He peered drunkenly into her face, and a smile quirked the corners of his thin lips. Kagome gasped, unable to remember a time when she had been knocked about with such relish.

"Who would be foolish enough to trust their young whelp into your black hearted hands?" Although he addressed her captor, Kouga's gaze travelled from her face to her felt-clad feet with insinuating slowness.

"Need I remind you how many times these black hearted hands have defeated you in a match?" Sesshoumaru replied.

Kouga ignored him and circled Kagome. "Small, is he not?"

"You were small yourself once, Kouga." Sesshoumaru slapped a muscled arm around Kouga's shoulders and guided his stumbling steps away from Kagome and toward the drawbridge. "Have you forgotten the time I pitched you out the window with one hand when we were but pups?"

"How could I? I landed in a bramble bush and spent the rest of the night soaking my finer parts in a barrel." Kouga shielded his eyes from the torchlight and hooked one arm around Sesshoumaru's neck. "Yet still I welcome you to East Castle. What a fool I am! I should feed you to the man-eating fish in my moat."

Sesshoumaru rolled his eyes. "After the camels ran away, I thought you'd give up on exotic animals."

"When the emperor took to bragging about his pet lion, I had to find some way to best him." Kouga shook his head sadly. "I lose two or three guests every feast day. One splash and they are no more. Nothing left but bones to be fished out when the sun rises. Ah, well."

Sesshoumaru jerked him back as he swayed toward the side of the drawbridge. Kagome hugged herself and edged closer to the center of the bridge, refusing to raise her eyes for fear of finding bleached bones floating in the bubbling water.

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**A/N**: I'm sort of going to use Kouga as a rival for Kagome's affections, just to show how great and smexy Fluffy-sama is compared to him.83 Throughout the series, I have always felt that Kouga and Hojo were extra characters that were created just for the purpose of being tortured (Rumiko Takahashi is a sadist!), since they could never get the girl.

I'd like to thank PurinsuArashi (Storm) for beta-ing this chapter and helping a clueless writer out. Thanks! You're the best!


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